QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “There’s one born every minute.” — P.T. Barnum

SONG OF THE WEEK: “The Man Who Sold the World” — David Bowie

Me, I stayed up all night last Tuesday, watching in (yes, it’s true) shock and awe—SHOCK and AWE—as an administration that’s proven itself time and time again to be at least as reprehensible as the Nixon cabinet, if not more so, well, to be fair, many of them were IN the Nixon cabinet, won a second four-year term in a nation that’s torn by war, doubts, fear, joblessness and confusion. Nevertheless, gaggles of God-fearin’, Bush-lovin’ mouth-breathers and lip-spellers made their merry little, gas-guzzlin’ ways to the polls and, in a record voter turn-out, re-elected the nastiest viper’s nest fulla snide little snollygosters this here nation’s seen since W. was captain of the college cheerleading squad.

At around 1:30 a.m. I knew that Kerry had lost—ample help from robotic NBC news anchor Tom Brokaw there—so I threw up my hands in despair and tossed in a DVD of classic “Twilight Zone” episodes. I figured Rod Serling’s twisted world of ‘50s and ‘60s science-fiction, horror and fantasy couldn’t be any more bizarre than the one I was currently inhabiting. Restless, I split my eyeballs between the TV screen and a copy of Johnny Cash’s autobiography, “Man In Black.” As I read Cash’s story (much of which was already familiar to me), I realized that he was writing to me from the year 1975—right smack dab in the middle of Watergate, the close of the Vietnam War, massive recessions, record oil shortages and national unrest. Wow—the more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?

To make a long story just a pinch shorter, I was particularly struck by the continued timeliness of a couple of Cash’s original songs, the lyrics to which were reprinted in the book. The first was “Ragged Old Flag,” which he wrote in response both to people burning the U.S. flag in protest over the Vietnam War and his own unhappiness with the Johnson/Nixon White House policies. Johnny wasn’t the kind of flag-waver we see around nowadays, though. And though the book is written with his Christian spiritual beliefs proudly held front and center, he wasn’t the kind of Christian you see walking around waving that flag these days, either. No, sir. Johnny (whose first wife and children were Catholic, and who took great pleasure in the study of theology, and Judaism, in particular) had room in his heart for everybody, and the sentiments he waxed so poetically on in “Ragged Old Flag” were meant for ALL Americans, not just the so-called “saved” or “righteous,” or “elite.”

Like Cash, I’ve had relatives fight (and sometimes die) in every major U.S. war, going back to The American Revolution. I’m mighty proud of that flag, and what it really stands for. It hurts to know that some segments of the population have attempted to co-opt it and use it to their own political/religious ends. As I read the lyrics to Johnny’s song, I thought about this 70-ish couple, life-long Democrats, whom I’d met on the St. Croix over the summer. We’d been discussing our political beliefs for most of the evening, and I’d mentioned several times how sickening I thought it was to see people installing U.S. flags in the rear windows of their huge, gas-guzzling SUV’s. (We buy the truck so we can buy the gas so we can support the troops who are dying to bring us the gas to run the truck so we can put the flag in the window ... huh?) As I asked the pair to pose for a picture, I realized that the cheap disposable camera I was using was covered in the U.S. flag motif—I recoiled, and apologized to the couple. “Nonsense!” they sniffed. “Don’t be ashamed to show that flag—it’s just as much ours as it is theirs, Tom. Never let them take that flag from you.” Now that hit home.

I’ve often thought about that conversation as the election neared, and though I never took to sporting a flag on my vehicle (although I do have a small cloth one hung upside down on the outside of my door—the international signal for distress), I thought twice about it when I saw others doing it. Maybe, I thought, just maybe, they’re like that couple—displaying the flag for the right reasons and doing it justice. Now that the results of the election are in, I know for sure that the couple I met are a statistical rarity—as I guess myself and most of my readers are becoming—or the results would’ve been quite different. Nonetheless, I was still struck by Cash’s lyrics, and how they apply so aptly to today’s America:

“Ragged Old Flag” (excerpt)
By: Johnny Cash

She’s been burned, dishonored, denied, and refused
And the government for which she stands
is scandalized throughout the land
And she’s getting threadbare and thin
But she’s in good shape for the shape she’s in
Cause she’s been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more
So we raise her up every morning, and take her down every night
We don’t let her touch the ground and we fold her up right
On second thought I do like to brag

Cause I’m mighty proud of that Ragged Old Flag...

The other tune that made me think twice was a gospel number Cash wrote about characters he found interesting in the Bible. It amazed me how much like Bush, his cronies, and the hordes of zealous zombies who helped re-elect him the people in this well-known tale were (all parenthetical comments mine):

“Belshazzar” (excerpt)
By: Johnny Cash

The people feasted and drank their wine
(That convenient shot, on national television before the election had even been called, of the Bush family—and their dog, Barney—gathered around a fancy buffet dinner, TV, and cushy furniture)
And praised the false gods of the time (Hmm, let’s see—Wall Street, Madison Avenue, organized religion, the military-industrial complex, Dr. Phil ...)

All holy things they scorned and mocked
(Yeah, you heard me. They THINK they’re holy, but they scorn and mock things like the sanctity of human life—the death penalty—the poor and downtrodden—Draconian social and health care policies—and the ecology—the health of the planet itself. That’s—umm—REAL HOLY, DUDES!)

But suddenly all their mocking stopped (I believe this time will come as the Halliburton and other scandals begin to unfold. Frankly, I’m thinking once this all plays out, Cheney and the gang will probably wish they’d never gotten a second term. But it took this to get Nixon’s dirty ass out so I guess we’ll have to wait ...)

For on the wall there appeared a hand,
Nothing else was—there was no man
In blood the hand began to write,
And Belshazzar couldn’t hide his fright
He was weighed in the balance

(I can’t WAIT for the congressional investigations and civil and criminal trials to begin! Can you say IMPEACHMENT, boys and girls? Sure, I knew ya could!)

And found wanting; His kingdom divided, couldn’t stand
(And can you think of a kingdom more divided than that of King George W?)

He was weighed in the balance
And found wanting; His houses were built upon the sand
(Yeah, you know ... the White House, the House Of Representatives, the house that George built ... sinking, sinking ... maybe after a million years, it’ll turn into a big, fat, black patch of crude oil! Wouldn’t ya just love THAT irony?)

Anyway, I felt a little better after reading those amazing bits of poetry from The Man In Black, but I’m afraid we still have a long road to go. As I write this, I find myself wavering between righteous anger and tears of rage—listening online to a perfect, gloomy, live My Morning Jacket gig from last May, the sense of doom and melancholy in the air is almost palpable. But I’m not gonna spend much more time stewing on it—I’ve got a stack of great albums here to dig into, and later there’ll be more work, lots more work to do.

So for now I won’t lament First Avenue—I’ll hold out faith that good ol’ Steve McClellan will wrest the reins of power back and reopen the venue for another great run. And I won’t sit around crying about the Bush win—I think time will take care of this gang of hoodlums. I will say here and now, for all the world to see, that when the shit hits the fans, America, you deserve what you’re gonna get. When the body bags (full of yours and your neighbor’s children) coming home start gettin’ into the thousands and the armies move from Iraq to Iran and points beyond, when some kid in Bangladesh is doing your job at one-eighth your pay and you can’t afford six or eight bucks a gallon for gas to feed your mechanical beast (with the custom-made U.S. flag motif on the back window), and when you start to realize that your “Holy Boy” is actually a wolf in sheep’s clothing, well, just remember who you voted for, folks. I’m glad that, like Johnny said after the first hinky Bush II election, I’ll be able to proudly proclaim, “I didn’t vote for Mr. Bush.” Amen.

*Johnny Cash’s 1975 autobiography was published by Zondervan Publishing House. The Library Of Congress Catalog Card # is: 75-6178. An updated version of 1998’s “Cash: The Autobiography” (HarperSanFrancisco) should fill in the later blanks nicely. To research the connections between the Nixon and Bush II administrations, check out former Tricky Dick associate John W. Dean’s terrifying tell-all, “Worse Than Watergate: The Secret Presidency Of George W. Bush.” The book was published in 2004 by Little, Brown & Company. Recommended listening: The Essential Johnny Cash, Columbia, 2002. Here you’ll find just about every big hit Cash ever had, along with the above-mentioned “Ragged Old Flag.” “Belshazzar” is available on multiple packages, most notably the excellent 2000 Columbia release Love, God, Murder, a 3-disc set which also includes a whole saddle bag fulla similar Cash tunes.*

GIG OF THE WEEK

For an evening of excellent new roots rock and country (not to mention sympathetic souls), don’t miss Red House recording artist Eliza Gilkyson this Sun., Nov. 14, as she plays The Cedar Cultural Center. Her critically-acclaimed third album, this year’s Land Of Milk And Honey, is jam-packed with top-notch musicianship (guests included Patty Griffin, Mary Chapin-Carpenter, Slaid Cleaves, Iris Dement, and Jon Dee Graham), and includes such timely tracks as “Hiway 9” (about the war in Iraq), the title cut (about the shameful state of modern America), and a moving cover of a rare Woody Guthrie song, “Peace Call.” Richard Shindell will also perform. 7:30 p.m., all-ages, $18 advance, $20 at the door. Highly recommended.

That about wraps up this edition of the ‘Dial, kids—thanks for tunin’ in. We’ll seizure next time, same place, same space—less politics! Until Mick Jagger has lip reduction surgery—make yer own damn news. ||

If you have local music news, gigs, CDs you’d like to see mentioned in this column, or you’re just not sure what exactly a “snollygoster” is, send replies to: (temporary e-mail) jamescrouch_1@juno.com.